Fever
by Pumpkingirl
Summary: Cabin Pressure fic. Sick!Martin turns up at Douglas' door and asks if he could stay for the night. Douglas/Martin h/c


The sound of the doorbell cut through the silence of the hitherto quiet house. A moment later the door flew open and Douglas was looking at a chalk-white faced, exhausted-looking Martin in front of him.

The ghost-like phenomenon muttered, "Can I come in?" barely audibly, and he was already in, making his way towards Douglas' favourite arm chair. He sank into it and pulled his legs up to his chest. Martin wore a painful expression – a mixture of discomfort and fear. All in all, he was looking terrbile. Douglas shut the door and went to him without a word, seating himself on the arm of the chair and resting his palm against his visitor's forehead.

"You're burning up, Martin!" he exclaimed worriedly.

Martin hugged his knees tighter and lowered his head, as if he were ashamed of himself. He still wasn't looking at Douglas when he spoke again.

"Can… Can I stay here for a while? I just… just don't want to be alone. I'm not feeling quite well and I couldn't stay at home, because the walls didn't let me breathe. It was like they were coming closer and closer…"

"Since when have you been like this? Have you taken any pills?" Douglas interrupted. Martin looked up at last; he already seemed a bit calmer. He nodded.

"I took some antypiretics, but they had no effect at all. I've been dragging on like this since yesterday afternoon. Couldn't even sleep."

Douglas streched out his hand again and laid it on Martin's face. He caressed the skin under Martin's eye with his thumb; it was slightly darker than it should have been after a good night's rest. Martin didn't protest – in fact, it seemed like he was _pleased_ by the touch. Douglas was surprised, yet content, for he'd imagined touching Martin like this dozens of times, but he never really imagined he'd _actually_ have the opportunity to try it in real life.

"You should have a cold shower. Your body has to cool down." he suggested raising up from his sitting position. "Come!"

He led Martin to the bedroom and made him sit on the bed. He grabbed a clean T-shirt and a pair of boxers out of the wardrobe and put them on the sheet next to the boy.

Martin didn't say a word. He stayed still and was absorbed in observing what Douglas was doing. He kept on blinking like an awe-struck deer – the fatigue sometimes generated odd symptoms like this in his case. He was so exhausted that he would have prefered laying across the bed at once. He wasn't even sure how he managed to get to Douglas' house.

Suddenly he felt Douglas' fingers fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. The older man's face was close to Martin's, he stuck his tongue out of his mouth while concentrating... For some reason, breathing became quite a troublesome activity for Martin.

"Hey, relax!" Douglas whispered. "You'll be fit as fiddle by tomorrow, if you entrust yourself to the care of good old Douglas."

Martin knew he had to do so, since that was why he'd gone to Douglas' house, choosing to give up his pride entirely. He needed help. He was alone and frightened the illness wouldn't go away. In two days they'd have to fly, and if he didn't get better, they have to abort the journey. Douglas was the only one who could help. Even if it was hard for Martin to admit, he trusted the man who was in the room with him. After all, he was the one who always came up with an emergency plan, wasn't he…? What's more, he'd been a medical student. He would know how to chase a little fever away…

Meanwhile, Douglas took Martin's shirt off, then led him to the bathroom.

"No need to hurry, all right? Take your time. Here you go," Douglas said, and put the t-shirt and boxers into Martin's hand. "'I'll leave the door ajar so I can hear if something's wrong."

Martin looked so pale that Douglas worried he might black out in the forseeable future, which is why he thought of this measure of precaution.

Martin entered the bathroom, but Douglas called after him.

"_Cold_ shower, Martin! Not lukewarm, _cold_! I'm going to feel the temprature on your skin afterwards, so be aware that I myself take you back in there if the water isn't ice cold the first time! Just so you know…"

Martin turned back to him a nodded, a small smile forming at the corner of his mouth.

Douglas made some tea while Martin was in the shower and returned just in time to find the boy standing in the middle of the room, shivering uncontrollably. Martin was wearing only the pair of boxers, so Douglas took the t-shirt and helped Martin pull it over his head. Meanwhile – touching the bare skin – he gladly ascertained that Martin had taken his advice about the temperature of the water.

Once Martin was dressed, Douglas made him drink some tea before letting him slip into bed and under the duvet. He himself took the chair in the corner of the room.

Minutes passed and Martin was still feeling cold, his teeth continued to chatter.

Douglas checked the boy's temperature with his hand once again and frowned.

"All right, Martin, time to try something else. You may not like it, but it I'm sure it will help…"

"What are you thinking of?" asked Martin, still shaking like a leaf.

"You let me lie beside you" Douglas stated plainly.

Martin was so suprised he didn't even try to hide his scepticism. "I'm not sure that it's… You know, it's not…"

Douglas tried to explain, "I don't mean to hurt your feelings, really Martin, but the thing is that my body temperature is – let's just say – more adequate than yours at the moment. Maybe I can't make your fever go down, but I'll definitely be able to warm you up and make you feel less like a bowl of jelly."

Martin wasn't entirely convinced yet. "I… It's just that…" he stammered.

Douglas finished the sentence for him. "That you've never been in the same bed with a man before, I know. But once it becomes inconvenient you only need to say the word and I'm out. As I said before, I don't want to hurt you in any way but frankly, Captain, it's getting quite tiresome to watch you agonize here…"

Martin was silent for a bit, but finally said, "All right."

"Is that an _all right_ all right, or you simply don't know what to say?" Dougas clarified.

"No, it's an _all right_ all right." Martin snapped. "You can come in, all right? Just hurry up! Please."

And so Douglas did. He lifted up the cover and crawled into the bed next to Martin's heated body. He moved very carefully_, _since he by no means wished to confuse Martin with the very first contact_. _He forced himself to move slowly – he knew he had to, for Martin's sake, and that was enough of a reason to do so. After resting his palm on Martin's upper arm for a while without getting any reaction at all, he shifted to get closer to him. He ended up with his chest gently pressed up against Martin's back and soon his arms and legs were in the perfect position too – his body was beautifully enveloping Martin's. Though he'd never touched him like this before, he knew what to do. How to hold him, how to make him lie the most comfortable way in _his_ bed...

Usually they shared hotel rooms, beacause neither of them could bear sleeping in the same room as Arthur. As Douglas once stated in a rather low key, "That boy can't even shut up when he's sleeping." So they shared rooms, but never the bed, of course. And this _'of course'_ was one that Douglas never said in a sarcastic way. Martin usually kept early hours, but this was a habit of his that Douglas didn't mind, because it created secret, stolen hours for him, in which he could watch his captain sleep. Martin always slept in the same position: like an octopus, he folded his long arms around himself, hugging, as if he were afraid he might break into little pieces until the morning came if he didn't.

Now – with Martin so distressingly weak – Douglas took over the duty of keeping him together by putting one arm around his shoulder and pulling him closer. The fever still surmounted the boy's system, and Douglas felt as little shivers ran all the way down his spine from time to time, but he knew it wouldn't last long now. He buried his face into the nape of Martin's neck, and dug his nose into the ginger locks tenderly but shamelessly at the same time, determined to keep Martin's mind busy with his ministrations, so he'd be able to stop the young man's train of thoughts about his current physical state.

A few minutes passed by and Martin's breathing became smoother and much more even. After a few more minutes Douglas heard him whisper in a drowsy voice, "You were right, Douglas. This is working."

Douglas smiled, his face still hiding behind his captain's head. The scent of Martin's hair was so wonderful that he started to doubt if he was going to be able to live with only a shallow memory of it.

"No big surprise. I'm always right" he replied, keeping his voice low. He waited a moment before adding, "But you're still shivering, I can feel it. You don't mind if I try something?"

Martin slightly moved his head and made an affirmative, "Mm..."

After getting the authority, Douglas' hand – that lay on the cover until now – started up on a journey, sliding down on the sheet and soon was travelling up again, this time under Martin's tee. Douglas still meant to keep the slow pace; his hand barely touched the boy's skin until his palm came to a rest on his chest. But Martin closed his own arms around himself automatically, so Douglas' arm was trapped, and now stuck to Martin's upper body from fingers to elbow.

Martin probably didn't realise how intimate the situation was; all he really knew was that he felt so awfully tired and helpless. "I shouldn't be here, Douglas," he murmured.

"Gosh, Martin, stop being so miserable," Douglas whispered into his ear. "Stop thinking at all. Leave that to me. The only thing you have to do right now is to lie here and think about absolutely nothing, all right? Go to sleep."

And the captain just this once, obeyed his first officer's command.

* * *

><p>Douglas woke up once to soft whimpering noises. He still held Martin in his arms, who had been squirming a little now and then. Sweat drops had formed on his forehead and he was breathing heavily. Douglas started to stroke Martin's temple and whispered soothing words into his ear, which seemed to work in calming him down, as the young man went back slowly into a sweet slumber. Douglas pulled him closer and placed a kiss in his hair. The nightmare faded away as the fever did, and Martin was quiet and still at last. Douglas felt better as well – better than he felt in a good while and better than he suspected he would feel in an even greater while. Perhaps it was just temporary, but at the moment Martin was his. And that was enough for him.<p>

* * *

><p>Martin went home the next morning. He was still weak, but not feverish any more. He sheepishly thanked Douglas for his help and asked him not to talk about it to the rest of the crew. Douglas agreed with him, as he also thought it will be the right thing to do – or, not to do.<p>

The next day they flew together and Martin was healthier than ever – physically. On the other hand, he seemed nervous and operated with a lack of concentration throughout the whole day. He avoided eye contact with Douglas and didn't speak nearly as much as he usually did.

After they landed and were finally alone on board, Douglas couldn't help himself and came up with the topic he was supposed to have buried deep within himself. He tried to assure Martin that there was no need to feel embarassed about what happened the other day, but Martin only shook his head and let out a deep sigh.

"The thing is, Douglas, that I don't feel awkward about what you think I feel awkward about," he said.

"Then what's the problem, Captain? You were squirming in your seat all the time like a schoolboy who's hiding porn under his bed and has just gotten a call from his mother telling him that she's about to clean his room. So, the problem is… ?"

"That night."

"Right, so you think you feel awkward because of that night," Douglas repeated.

"No..." Martin muttered.

"Then what is it, Martin?" Douglas asked.

Martin's face flushed, he turned his head down.

"I think I... _miss_ it. I can't get rid of all those thoughts, you know. I want to feel your hand on my face again, your arm around my waist, your breath on my hair... I think I've gone mad, or something." Martin said, sounding ashamed.

Douglas took a step forward and put two fingers under Martin's chin to lift up his head, so he could look him in the eye.

"You're only as mad as I am, Martin, and you'd better note that because you'll probably never get another compliment like this from Douglas Richardson. Something else, however…"

It all happened in an instant. Douglas took Martin's hand, led him against the wall and started to kiss him passionately.

That night they not only shared a room, but they also shared a bed and Martin's face flushed again, although this time it had nothing to do with a fever.


End file.
